


Boxturtle Shells and Hozier Songs

by dittyditto (Triple_A)



Series: Not quite the same, but still alright. [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, GAVIN CAN LIKE CATS AND DOGS, Gavin doesn't like his family, Gavins cat is called Turtle, Gavins dog is called Hozier, thats right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-26 16:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18182939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triple_A/pseuds/dittyditto
Summary: A few bits and pieces about Gavin and  his pets: namely, his cat Turtle, and his dog Hozier.(Mostly?) Fluff





	Boxturtle Shells and Hozier Songs

**Author's Note:**

> phat thanks to detroit new era discord

Before Connor, before Nines, before the fucking Android Revolution and before he had lost hope in Hank-Gavin was solidly okay.

How weird was that?

He'd finally lost contact with his parents, (but frankly, good riddance). Eli had finally given up on trying to maintain contact. His pit bull and best friend since high school, Hozier, had kicked the dust. Age claimed everything eventually.

But Gavin was...okay.

He was well on the way to getting promoted, with a line of stellar performances and cases under his belt. He'd made friends with this beat cop, Tina Chen, at a post-case party at Jimmy's. She was literal spitfire, and he'd told her so. She'd laughed and called him a jackass, and then they proceeded to get drunk and talk about past exes and gossip. Tina told him about her girlfriend, Elise, who was apparently both a goddess and "the best thing this shitty earth produced", all while her eyes had a drunken film of stars. Gavin told her about how once at the academy, he managed to get Wikipedia banned for a month by constantly changing the page for Elijah Kamski to talk about how stupid he was as a child ("It was all true, too. But it pissed off the professors and everyone got mad at me for getting Wikipedia banned." He wheezed, while Tina slumped against him with laughter.)

And then Gavin found Turtle.

December. It was after a late shift at the precinct, where he had spent nearly twelve hours trying to puzzle his way through a particularly irritating homicide case. No progress was made, and Fowler had finally forcibly booted him and told him to grab some rest. For all their sakes.

It was snowing. The street signs were lit up with Christmas lights, and it seemed every window and building was lit up somehow. Even the CyberLyfe stores had gotten the message and did not look so stark and medical, looking rather warm with Christmas trees and menorahs, among other decor. Music was playing from the nearest, cheery and warming in the brisk air.

Even Gavin, in his soured mood at having made no progress, was a little happier, as he walked around the block to his apartment.

That's when he heard the mewling.

It was so soft and muffled he wasn't sure if he really heard it at first. He stopped in his tracks. turned a little. Was he imagining it? Sleep deprivation did some wack shit.

But no, it was there. To his left, in the alleyway. Somewhere beneath the snow.

He catches glimpse of a tattered bit of fur, dark, sticking out in a pile of snow. Crouching, he scoops it away, ignoring the numbing in his fingers.

There was a filthy, shivering cat. He couldn't even tell what color it was, between the dirt and the dim orange streetlight. But there was no collar, and that was enough reason for him to pull off his jacket and bundle it around the poor thing, then take off in a sprint towards his apartment building, breath fogging as he ran.

He didn't know the first thing about how to take care of cats. But he set his jacket and cat by the heater as he ran a basin of warm water, then frantically began googling about how to deal with hypothermia in a cat and if cats can eat canned tuna, or if that was just a myth.

Something brushed against his leg, and he nearly jumped. It was the cat, mostly curled up in his jacket but bumping its nose against his shin. It had found its voice and was meowing insistently, as if angry.

"Hey, don't be a dick. I'm trying to help you."

" _Meow._ "

"Asshole."

He lifted the cat and placed in near the sink. It dabbed at the warm water a little bit, still shivering, and then slipped right in, paddling around. Looking content. Gavin almost felt lethargic watching, as he cracked open a tin of tuna and dug Hozier's old food and water bowls from a cupboard.

"Feeling better?"

It flicked its tail and splashed him.

"Fucking jerk."

But the water had dislodged most of the filth, revealing fluffy coppery and black fur, mottled over the coat. He'd have to take it to the vet tomorrow, and figure out what breed it was, but for now he had other things on his mind.

The linen closet didn't hold much in term of linens. Gavin's apartment was nearly strictly a bachelor's pad, but he did have a few extra towels. As he grabbed one, he noticed Hozier's old bed; a big, dark blue beanbag lump. Hozier never really slept on it, preferring Gavin's bed, but maybe his new roommate would enjoy it.

Gavin shook his head. Did he already just adopt this stray? Whatever, he'd deal with that thought tomorrow.

The cat was in the process of dragging itself from the sink when he came back, and he nearly tackled it with the towel to preserve the state of the kitchen. He failed, mostly, as the cat shook itself and dirty water splattered the white walls and counter. Ah, well, at least it was vigorous now, and he toweled it off to its discontent.

But it was dry now, and curled up in the towel only a little bit disheveled, and peacefully enjoying its tuna as Gavin took on the task of beating dust out of the old dog bed.

At around 1 AM, here was where he found himself. Gavin, watching the cat leisurely meander its way to where he placed the bed in the living room ("Are you a cat or a tortoise? Jesus Christ."), while texting Tina about what he just did. She was likely asleep right now, curled up with her girlfriend, but he hoped she'd enjoy the images he was spamming her of the tortoiseshell(?) cat curling up on the bed ten times its own size.

Okay, that was pretty fucking cute. And that was enough excitement for one day. With a yawn, Gavin stumbled towards his own room, pulling off clothes as he went and barely pausing to brush his teeth before collapsing on his bed and passing out.

He'd wake up in the morning with the cat curled up on his chest, and his phone buzzing a mile a minute as Tina screamed over text about the pictures.

* * *

Somehow, someway, that damn cat found his way into Gavin's life.

The next day was his off day, at Fowler's insistence, so he walked to a veterinarian's office with the cat sitting in Hozier's gigantic carrier case. The android vet who did the check-up informed that the cat was a mix, between a Tortoiseshell (Google was right, of course it was) and a Maine Coon, among other breeds. That explained why it liked water so much, and why it was patterned like that. After some talking, and some paperwork, the cat got a green collar with a silver tag: IF FOUND RETURN TO GAVIN REED, and Gavin got a freeloader on his insurance plan.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." He told the cat later, as he sat outside waiting for a taxi. They'd just left the pet store, and now the cat was sitting on his thigh looking all pleased and happy in a new sweater. Gavin still hadn't decided on a name, and was half-paying attention to Tina's messages, who was spamming him with suggestions. The cat didn't seem to believe it either, and he nipped Gavin on the finger when they strayed from the top of his head.

"Ow! Shit." He cursed, and the cat meowed smugly. He pointed at it in the face, something he used to do with Hozier. "You little shit."

The cat bit him again.

"Fuck!"

Nearby, some old man chuckled. "Nice cat you've got there, sonny."

"Thanks, mister. You want him?"

"Already got three, but thanks for the offer." The old guy laughed, and walked over to sit next to Gavin on the bench. "He's a biter, huh?"

"Yeah, got me twice. Can't believe I just up and decided to adopt him, but then again I'm not good at planning ahead."

"You've got heart, kid. It takes a real good person for a cat like that to stick around too."

"Either that, or this is a stupid cat." As if understanding, the cat bit him again, this time on the hand holding the phone in a slack grip. "Ow!"

His companion laughs. "Maybe that's not even a cat. It looks like you've found a snapping turtle." A taxi pulls up, and the old man stands first. "Do you mind if I take this?"

"Sure. I'm in no rush."

"Much obliged, sonny. See ya round!"

"Bye."

Gavin watched that cab pull away, then turned back to the cat, now preening himself. The winter sun caught the bronze patches littering his back, lighting up a pattern that called to mind the namesake of the breed. _Tortoiseshell._

A new cab pulled in, and Gavin scooped the cat into his new, properly sized carrier despite protests. "Come on, Turtle. It's time to go home."

**Author's Note:**

> gavin was a warrior cats fan in elementary school


End file.
